


The Words That Make Us Heal

by running_with_the_devil



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/running_with_the_devil/pseuds/running_with_the_devil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That was all it took for me to regain control. A reminder that whatever hurt I was feeling did not stop the world from carrying on regardless. A reminder that it was likely things were to become as equally unpleasant. Within a heartbeat, I was in the attack position, ready to tear apart whatever it was that was likely to add to the weight I could already feel.</p><p>Was originally written from Derek's point of view, but I thought it might work a bit better if it was third person. Those lines, from Derek's point of view, seemed to work quite nicely though to describe the fic. </p><p>Oh! And plenty of angst, yeah?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tired, more than usual.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just a short first chapter to kind of set up the basic premise. I've never posted any fic before so it'd be lovely that if anyone read this and wanted to give me any kind of tips or advice, all feedback is appreciated. I just basically wanted to show a more emotional and human side to Derek and Stiles as well as being kind of a slow build, but fairly light and fluffy in terms of plot, but with just the slightly heavier emotional parts being the weightier moments. Hopefully it's not too bad and you'll be able to enjoy it.
> 
> I'll post a new chapter every couple of days :)

Derek began to realise that all the lovely things in this house seemed to crack, quite early on. Nothing seemed to stick. Everything beautiful eventually wore away until, it, like the house he lived in, was worn down and charred. Derek supposed it was that night that he noticed just how worn down he was. Sitting a little way into that forest, he cried for the first time since he was a child. Everything pouring out uncontrollably. The tired, angry, lonely person he was. Not a wolf. Not tonight. Just a fragment of a person caught in the mess that he no longer had any control over.

'Derek?'

That was all it took for him to regain control. A reminder that whatever hurt he was feeling did not stop the world from carrying on regardless. A reminder that it was likely things were to become as equally unpleasant. Within a heartbeat he was in the attack position, ready to tear apart whatever it was that was likely to add to the weight he could already feel.

'Whoa, hey! Calm down'

It took him a second to process that this was not a physical threat. 

'Are you okay?'

'Why was he asking me this?' thought Derek. Why did he not run away and hide? Poised and ready to attack and Stiles' first thought is to ask if his attacker is okay.

'Stiles, what are you doing here?'

'Looking for you. You weren't at your appartment so I thought you might be here.'

'Okay, let me try again. Why are you here, Stiles?'

'I know what today is.'

And with those words, Derek realised that Stiles was a bigger threat than at first though. He was weak, human and harmless, but he was aware of everything that could haunt a person.

'I don't know what you mean.'

'Scott always pays extra attention to what I have to say on my mother's anniversary.' 

The only thought Derek could process at that moment was; 'Of course this boy would know that today is the day that marks the death of most of my family. Of course.'

'I thought you might not want to be alone. I was worried no one would have realised.'

The impact of those words were exhausting. There was nothing self motivated about them, not even in the slightest. This boy was worried about my well being. 

'Stiles, you can go. I'm fine.' How else do you respond to a gesture like this? Regardless of whatever was standard protocol for this kind of awkward emotionally convulsing meeting, Stile's stood silently. Nothing moving but his chest. Slowly inhaling and exhaling the frozen air. Night's had long since turned cold from the summer, and the boys layers helped, but would in no way keep the cold out for long. Stiles was not in a place where consideration of his own bodily temperature was key. He was more aware of the pain that a single death of someone so important can hold over your life. He was therefore empathetic towards the pain that Derek must be feeling. He slowly made his way towards the man kneeling on the floor and sat down next to him.

'For the first couple of years after my Mom died, I used get really panicky. It was like this weight crushing down on me, pushing the air out of my lungs. My Dad used to get really worried, and took my to the doctor. Eventually the panic attacks went away, or at least weren't as bad. But it still hurt. It still hurts,' Stiles eyes fidgeted down towards the earth as he subconsciously fiddled with the place his sleeves rested around his wrists, tugging and patting then down so that none of his forearms were exposed to the cold night air.

Derek's eyes squeezed shut tighter. Neither one of the two dared look at each other, but Derek was fully aware that there was another body beside him. A body that chose to be there for him. Minutes passed as the silence collected in the air around them, threatening to stifle any word that should be so delicately formed into the crisp air engulfing the enclosure before the house and symbolic grave of the family that once flourished here.

Stiles remained silent, despite this being something that he was not, at best, equipped to do. Realising what a man of few words Derek Hale was, and trying to accommodate as much towards that as possible. Stiles had offered a piece of his own experience with death as a gesture. He figured that trust was not something that came instinctively to Derek and that offering someone as hurting as Derek, a piece of emotional vulnerability seemed like a good place to start.

Years of dealing with what had happened had helped Derek become numb to this pain. But this one day, not every years, but every couple of years or so, got to Derek. He could no longer escape the tragedy of what happened by ignoring that it ever did. He had to feel it, and feel it completely. 

More time passed, and Stiles remained sitting next to the dishevelled looking Derek. He wasn't trying to defy Derek by staying, but simply to remain there for him, to be the kind of presence and understanding that was obviously lacking in his life. He needed Derek to know that he too had been through, although not to the same level, a similar kind of heartbreaking loss, and that he was willing to share the load, should Derek require anyone to talk to. But as more time passed, it became evident that nothing further was going to be said and as Derek stood up and waited for Stiles to rise too, to ensure that he got to the his Jeep okay, both realised that tonight was not going to involve any kind of conversation.

All that was further said that night was a simple 'Thanks,' as Stiles got into his Jeep and Derek nodded in his direction.


	2. Unexpected Thoughtfulness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everything okay?” asked Stiles, trying to show as little of his mildly flustered nature as possible.
> 
> “I was really coming to ask you that,” retorted Derek, one eyebrow raising.
> 
> Basically, this is kind of initiating the long line of conversations Derek and Stiles will have about loss as they get to know each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so second chapter! :D I'll try and post the next one tomorrow! Thank you to the one person who left a kudos! I was so excited to see that, you have no idea.
> 
> Seriously, any comments or feedback is lovely and I'll keep trying to post a chapter a day, or at the very least every few days.

Two weeks had passed since the night Stiles sat alone with Derek in the forest and it was sufficient to say that two weeks is the correct amount of time for awkwardness to set in around the very notion of even bringing up what happened. Two weeks was enough time that it was best not mentioning this to anyone at all, really. It's not as though Stiles had spent a particularly large amount of time wanting to tell anyone, he respected that Derek being that vulnerable was something best kept between the two of them, and in a perfect world would have only been kept to Derek himself. He was perfectly comfortable with knowing that it was a very slim chance that he might get to talk to Derek about what had happened. He knew the basic details, and didn't really want to pry. He was satisfied enough in knowing that he'd at least been able to almost be there for someone when they were in a considerable amount of pain.

As Stiles loaded his school bag into the back of the Jeep, and made his way around the side of the vehicle, he began to notice the fast approaching figure. It had been two whole weeks since any kind of interaction, but here came Derek, expressionless and clearly making his way towards the Jeep and or Stiles. Stiles, although being unaware of any vague idea that would explain to him what this encounter would consist of, or knowing what it was about, contemplated very briefly and was almost stunned that the man had clearly actively searched him out... at the very least to ask if he knew where Scott or Isaac was.

“Everything okay?” asked Stiles, trying to show as little of his mildly flustered nature as possible.

“I was really coming to ask you that,” retorted Derek, one eyebrow raising.

Clearly the night's toll on the man had faded. Any signs of jaded weakness had retreated back to a place where Derek could keep them under control. He was, once again, put together and radiating the air of control that he always previously seemed to.

“Uh, yeah?” inquired Stiles, unsure of what was meant by that.

“Is there somewhere we could maybe talk?”

“I was just about to drive home-”

“Will anyone else be there?” interrupted Derek. Because, of course it wouldn't sound concerning to Stiles that Derek was curious as to whether Stiles home would be empty upon his return. That did not sound like a threat, not at all.

“Um, no. My Dad's at work.”

Derek almost half smiled uncomfortably (Please note that it was not quite a half smile. Not quite.) “Well, how about I stop by for a bit and clear up what happened a couple of weeks ago?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure” was all Stiles could muster as Derek sidelined for the passenger side door to the Jeep. It was now that Stiles was realising, it probably would have been better if he'd have just shrugged off the whole thing with “Nah, it's fine, no worries.” But his curiosity for what lies behind Derek Hale's sudden apparent need to justify his actions had floored any of the common sense out of Stiles.

The one thing that Stiles certainly could have anticipated was that the journey from school to his house would be proficiently awkward. Silence really was something that you either felt grateful for or uncomfortable as a result. In this instance, however, Stiles felt both. And both of his reactions, really, were quite understandable.

Silently they both got out of the vehicle when they arrived at Stiles' house. Stiles led the way to the front door and walked in, allowing Derek to follow. Stiles, immediately making his way towards the kitchen, placed his bag on the table in the centre of the room and began making himself a sandwich. About half way through stuffing the bread into his mouth, he realised that not only was it rude not to offer company, but also shoving roughly sliced bread as thick as he had into his mouth with no remorse would only make him look like a pig. Or an orphan starved of all nutrition, just stumbling across food for the first time in weeks. Derek just raised an eye brow and gave a low laugh which could have also have been misinterpreted as a half sigh.

“Oh, sorry,” Stiles muttered through a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich. “You hungry? I'm starving.”

“When did you last eat? Jesus,” said an amused Derek.

“About 2 hours ago,” said Stiles without a hint of humour. “Growing boy and everything,” joked Stiles, humour present again.

This wasn't the Derek that Stiles was accustomed to, nor was this the Stiles that Derek had learned to tolerate, but ultimately block out.

“So, what was it that you wanted to talk about?” asked Stiles, unsure of whether his question was going to insert more awkwardness into the already tense situation.

“Ah, yes,” spoke Derek softly. “Firstly, I wanted to thank you. You didn't have to stay with me. “

A thank you, from the sour-wolf, alpha of the pack, himself?

“I don't know exactly how you figured out what that day meant to me, but I suppose you've never really had any boundaries when it comes to snooping into people's lives,” continued Derek calmly.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” began Stiles. He was already aware that he may have crossed a line, but his intentions were good. They honestly were.

“No, honestly, I understand. You didn't have to share what you did. That must have been tough to talk about. I hadn't realised that you were the kind of person who'd go to the trouble of checking up on someone like me,” said Derek, petering out towards the end. “You deserved a proper thank you for that. I understand why you stayed with me.”

“Oh, yeah? And why is that?” Stiles couldn't help himself from asking. 

“Because when you lose someone like that, you understand how hard it is to carry on without them. You wouldn't wish for anyone to have to feel the kind of loss it leaves you with.” 

“Oh,” whispered Stiles, unsure of how to continue.

“So, thank you.”

“I, uh, don't mention it,” was all Stiles could manage. He certainly wasn't expecting that from Derek Hale.

Derek tapped the chair he was standing behind with his hand once and began to turn to leave.

“Derek?” willed Stiles, breaking the shocked stupor he'd been stuck in. Derek turning towards him once again; “Anytime. Seriously.”

And with another half smile, Derek turned and left.


	3. Not Alone In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And he sat and he breathed. Slowly taking in the cold air. It filled his lungs and soothed his mind. The air tasted of night. A time when everything got calmer. A time when people wound down. He sat still for a minute, taking in the surroundings, closing his eyes slightly. Feeling the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 :D The title of this chapter is a reference to the Alexz Johnson song Look at Those Eyes, because it seemed fitting :')
> 
> Basically Stiles trying to justify his feelings towards wanting to talk/spend time with Derek.
> 
> Thanks to those who took the time to read the previous chapters and for tyhe kudos, really appreciated it. Love any feedback so don't be scared :D I also have a tumblr http://running-with-the-devil-instead.tumblr.com incase you wanted to ask anything about this or just be best friends for life and what not. :P

The unexpected nature of their last meeting left Stiles a little uneasy. Partially because he wasn't sure where their meetings had come from, but partially from where the feelings of dread that arose when Stiles saw an alpha werewolf making his way towards him. Regardless, Stiles was sure that it was unlikely that he'd have to endure another conversation with Derek Hale, especially to the degree that they'd previously conversed. Which at a respectable one and a half conversations, it was a pretty intense factor that both moments centred so heavily around death. And whilst the two may have spoken to each other before, it was never like this. They'd never truly been on an even playing field, where they both shared a common loss. Of the family that held them together. Of the people that brought them up. Of the people that made them the people they are, both before and after they'd actually passed away.

Stiles considered this, whilst pretending to be reading through roughly taken class notes during study. Realising that the short moments, no matter how uncomfortable the lead up had been, were freeing to no end. Stiles had spent time with someone else evidently in pain over the same thing that caused him so much pain. It may have been years, and it may not be something that grates at him everyday. But it was something that he realised he'd never really spoken about like this before. His father's pain was his father's, and Stiles' pain was Stiles'. In their house, this was the unspoken weight that had lived overhead for years. It had faded and it had become lighter, more palatable. But it never truly disappeared, because, how could it?

“You've been staring at the same half a page of notes for like half an hour,” prompted Scott, slightly concerned about Stiles' lack of interaction during a period in which, at his most productive, Stiles was talking constantly.

“Oh, uh, I've just been really trying to take it in.”

“Yeah, you really looked like you were meditating over covalent bonds,” joked Scott with a smirk.

“Just a bit distracted lately, is all,” Stiles felt increasingly uncomfortable about the whole situation. A situation that he felt he couldn't even unload onto Scott, his best friend.

“You okay, Stiles? You can talk to me, you know,” comforted Scott. Scott had become significantly more emotionally aware over the summer. His own loss of a relationship with Allison hadn't caused him to retreat further into that sense of self entitlement that came with the hurt from a break-up. Instead he'd progressed in the opposite direction, trying endlessly to prove that he had the ability to be there for the people in his life. Knowing this made Stiles feel even worse that he couldn't share more, that he couldn't ease Scott's worry.

“Just need a good nights sleep, I think,” offered Stiles to attempt to put an end to the unnecessary concern of Scott.

After study period ended, Stiles spent his final lesson of the day away from Scott, before heading home. That hadn't stopped Scott from waiting for Stiles by the Jeep to once again check up on him. Stiles appreciated the concern, but by then had perked up enough that he was able to convincingly remove any doubt about his well-being in Scott's mind. Maybe a good nights sleep was what was needed. Maybe the following morning would bring clarity. 

It was later that evening that Stiles realised the thing that was distracting him the most was actually pure driven desire to be engrossed in conversation with Derek Hale. He realised that the two were not friends, and that they had very little else in common, combined with the fact that Derek had made it very obvious in the past that Stiles was both highly irritating and would enjoy, without remorse, ripping his throat out.  
Despite all of the things that Stiles was listing and checking off on his quest for self revelation and better judgement of his predicament, he couldn't help but pull on shoes and a warm jacket and make his way out the front door.

Telling his father, and himself, that he was just going to Scott's and he'd be back by eleven, he made his way on foot towards the broken remains of Derek's family's house. Stiles also justified this action by telling himself that he was going for a walk to 'clear his head.' The way one does, set out to do something so mundane, then being pulled so effortlessly in the direction of what you really want. Right now Stiles really wanted to be somewhere where he'd feel understood for a little while. The past few weeks had taught him that maybe Derek was an all round better person than he had previously given him credit for. Although he was still so aware of whatever murky things lingered in Derek's past, he couldn't help but maintain his morbid fascination with talking to the man.

Stiles was aware that walking alone through woods at night was not on the list of things his father would recommend as police sheriff, but also knew that a fear as clichéd as that, is not one that belongs in the forefront of his mind, or deserving of any of his concern. He'd seen far worse and experienced so much in the past two years that he knew the darkness and forest was not something he was willing to devote much time to thinking about.

Stopping to sit for a while on a stump that once rose high above the forest enclosing him, Stiles was able to separate himself. He was able to separate himself from the noise and the movement of the world around him. And he sat and he breathed. Slowly taking in the cold air. It filled his lungs and soothed his mind. The air tasted of night. A time when everything got calmer. A time when people wound down. He sat still for a minute, taking in the surroundings, closing his eyes slightly. Feeling the night. Realising how unrealistic it was to walk towards the charred remains of the Hale house with any kind of expectation of, well, whatever it was that Stiles was expecting. A grown man wanting to hear, or at least listening to Stiles complain about the hurt in his life. Stiles had failed to account for the fact, in his wistful fantasies, that Derek Hale had experienced far worse. Let alone that Derek didn't actually live there, nor would he really want to spent much time there anymore. Derek's family weren't sick. He didn't watch them slowly wither until they were taken from him. They were murdered. Ripped right from his grasp. He hadn't known to expect that. Stiles had.

“Stiles?” asked a voice, once again much softer than what most would have come to expect. Although that might have been the night. Night makes everything seem and feel softer. Air to the lungs, water to the lips, words to the ear.

Stiles instinctively spun around to face the voice, twisting his upper body whilst remaining sat on the log.

“What are you doing here?” asked the voice whose body had now come into focus.

“Just clearing my head. A walk tends to do that,” answered Stiles calmly. Much more calmly than he would have previously been around Derek Hale.

“Yeah, they do tend to have that effect on people. Maybe not at night and in the forest, alone, though?”

“Maybe not,” retorted Stiles with a slight hint of humour. “What are you doing here? You know, besides looking for innocent walkers to attack and all.”

“Just clearing my head,” answered Derek, not breaking his focus on Stiles face, which at this point was looking anywhere but back at Derek's.


End file.
